Developments
by yellowtoccata
Summary: Light finds out that L has been sexually assaulted by Souichirou and struggles with whether to confront his father. In the meantime, he wrestles with burgeoning feelings for the great detective - something that amounts to more than just sympathy. WARNING: moderately graphic depictions of sexual assault and its aftermath.
1. Duty Calls

**Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me. I am humble otaku trash.**

"For once, you seem to have done something right, Matsuda," said L, reaching out a hand to accept Matsuda's offering of a bag of miniature Snickers bars and a boxed apple pie from a local fast-food restaurant. Everyone else, of course, could expect bags and cartons full of normal foodstuffs.

Matsuda, who was the only other person in the computer laboratory with Ryuzaki, flushed with delight. "Oh wow. You really think so? I figured you'd all be getting hungry, so I decided to –"

L's cell phone suddenly rang. Without even a glance at Matsuda, mouth agape in a smile as he stopped talking midsentence, L picked up. "Yes, Mr. Yagami, what is it?"

"Ryuzaki," answered the steady, gravelly voice on the other end, "I've discovered something I think you may need to see."

"Understood. I'll be up in a few moments. Matsuda, go find Light and tell him to follow me to his father's office."

Still twitching with the fleeting happiness of a moment's praise from Ryuzaki, Matsuda responded with some surprise. "Really? Light? Why do you want him to come? Don't you think he's Kira?" And then, eagerly: "Are you starting to think maybe he's in the clear?"

"No, on the contrary: how he reacts to Mr. Yagami's news will almost certainly shift the balance of probability in one direction or another, and so far his responses have only served to deepen my suspicions. Even so, his input throughout our project has been nothing short of invaluable. In the long term, his behavior will be useful should I find myself in the position of a retrospective evaluation of his reactions to key turning points in the tracking down of our killer."

Matsuda's smile faltered. "Oh."

"Have him follow me when he can." L hadn't looked at Matsuda even once throughout the entire exchange. He doubled back only to retrieve a Snickers bar, then took a second – and then a third, in case the development turned out to be really challenging. Then he left, leaving the now dejected Matsuda and the smell of cheap hamburgers in his wake.

...

Ryuzaki entered Souichirou's office with a curt knock on the door.

"Mr. Yagami," he said, "I've advised Matsuda that before you relate whatever findings –"

Before L could say anything more, Souichirou shut the door – not loudly, with a slam; and yet not gently, with deliberation; but brusquely, as if he had practiced listening for a signal. Then he turned to face L, stony-faced.

L's own expression remained unchanged. "Have I done something to upset you, Mr. Yagami?"

"We need to talk." The four words sounded like the purr of thunder in the distance.

L replied, "I assume you mean about something other than –"

"I have been kept here, away from my family – away from my wife – for days on end over the last several weeks," Souirchirou declared, still in that quiet, level voice. "I accept my part of the responsibility. But the majority of my discomfort is owing to you and your demands." He took a step towards Ryuzaki.

L began to unwrap a Snickers bar. "Mr. Yagami, when we took this on –"

"I know what I agreed to." Sweat had begun to dampen his face. In that moment, L realized, he looked large and powerful – perhaps, L observed with some uneasiness, even threatening. "But now I expect to be paid what I am due."

He seized L by the wrist and forced him to his knees. L held on to the Snickers bar, wondering when he would have the opportunity to actually take a bite.

Then Souichirou, who towered over the blank-eyed detective kneeling on the floor, undid the button of his trousers. L felt a rush of embarrassment, wondering if, perhaps he should look away. From the floor, he had a clear view of the sweat stains underneath Soichiro's armpits.

"Swallow it," Souichirou commanded softly. "I don't want people wondering what's down your shirt."

When he thrust his enormous organ into L's mouth – L gave a hastily muffled yell of alarm – the Snickers bar slipped from the detective's fingers, unwrapped but uneaten.


	2. Deduction

Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me. The weeaboo has spoken. To herself. Because she has no friends. Except for anime characters.

...

Light wondered what kind of development could be so important – or so unusual – that it had to be discussed in private, in his father's office. For a moment, he considered the possibility that Souichirou had discovered the notebook, locked up in Light's room. That seemed unlikely, since no one had touched the secret hiding place except for Light himself; on the other hand, that damned Ryuzaki was always coming up with his own circuitous – if extraordinary – reasons for investigating possibilities that would, in a normal case and in the mind of a normal detective, be considered long-shots.

Light tensed as he reached his father's office. He raised his hand to knock.

The door opened before he could touch it, and there stood – or rather, half-crouched, as was his way – Ryuzaki.

Light relaxed, not wanting to look suspicious for being uneasy about what news he might hear. "Oh ... Ryuzaki. Matsuda told me to come up here. I guess my father had something he wanted you and I both to hear."

"Mm. Yes." L exited the room, so that Light had to step back, and shut the door behind him. "Turns out it was nothing." He made to move past Light.

Light was flabbergasted – and insulted. How dare L try to withhold clearly important information, especially after he had sent Matsuda – _Matsuda_ ; the great detective was too full of himself even to retrieve Light on his own – to request Light's presence.

Light said, "Well, certainly it must have been important if my father wanted me to be there to hear it."

"No. _I_ wanted you to be there because I assumed it would be pertinent to our investigation. I was quite incorrect, as much as I hate to admit it."

"Ryuzaki –" Light grabbed L by the shoulder and L turned around.

Light's eyes widened. "Ryuzaki, are you all right?"

L's face had gone the color of chalk. The thin shoulder under Light's hand was stiff, almost like a corpse, so unlike L's usual laid-back slouch. Light knew immediately that something was wrong. "Are you sick? What happened?"

"No, Light. Nothing is wrong. Perhaps I was a little apprehensive myself a few moments ago, thinking, as you did, that there was something of importance to be heard. Now, let go of me, please."

But Light didn't let go. He had a sick feeling in his stomach. L clearly knew something he didn't. Was it a trick?

With less conviction than he would have liked, Light demanded, "Did ... Kira do something to you? Is he controlling you, Ryuzaki? Did he threaten –"

L jerked himself out of Light's grip and stumbled backwards into the wall. His dark eyes flitted to the door. Then, unexpectedly: "Perhaps we should hold this conversation elsewhere."

...

In a vacant conference room lit by fluorescent lights, Light and L sat down together. Light had to remember to play the concerned friend, the concerned task force member – worried for Ryuzaki and for the safety of their colleagues.

"What happened?" asked Light.

L, in his usual crouched position, shifted his weight in the chair. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Light."

"Why not?"

"First of all, because there is still a fifteen percent chance that _you_ are Kira. Secondly, because the information is of a ... sensitive nature."

Light looked at him suspiciously, wondering if Ryuzaki was playing tricks.

"Why don't you use your deductive reasoning, Light?" Suddenly there was a note of reproach – anger, even, or (unless Light was imagining it) panic – in the detective's voice. "Surely this can't be so difficult for you to figure out."

Light closed his eyes. A small part of him had suspected, but not wanted to believe. "What did he do to you?"

Ryuzaki was silent, and for a moment, Light almost wished he didn't have the brilliant deductive reasoning faculties that had, until now, been his greatest asset.


	3. Confession

Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me. I'm just here for the angst.

...

L couldn't decide whether to tell. Frankly, the sourness of humiliation was what got him the most. Oh, not the humiliation of having been sexually assaulted; that was problematic, but secondary. L was the leader of this operation, the great mind behind what the task force was going to accomplish. That he had let something like this happen might make him seem less powerful, perhaps even less intellectually reliable. If he were to tell Light what had happened, word might get out. And Light –

Well, how likely was Light to react with anger rather than rationality? He could, after all, be overly passionate. Sitting beside Light in the conference room, L shifted in his chair. Would confessing not only to Souichirou's own son, but to Kira himself, indicate that the detective might compromise their mission in some way?

The outcome seemed negative no matter how he framed it. Tell, and there was the risk of others being told. And yet what if Souichirou had been doing this to others as well? To weak, stupid people like Matsuda? The thought made L feel strangely ill. The sudden nausea creeping in his throat made him think of the taste of Souichirou, drowning out the back-and-forth he had been having with himself over whether or not to tell Light Yagami.

"Ryuzaki," Light said, and L looked up in surprise, having almost forgotten that Light was there. "I think I should tell you something."

"Yes, Light. I'm listening."

"My father – well, he's always had anger issues. You can see that as well as anyone. He's a good guy, but I know how he can get when he's under pressure." Light paused. L waited unflinchingly. "And I can't help but wonder if he'd go so far as to take out his frustration with the case on members of the task force. I mean, Matsuda's used to being stepped on, so he's probably the easiest target. But what about you? I mean, how do you handle it when that happens?"

L narrowed his eyes. "Light, I haven't been 'stepped on,' whatever that it intended to mean."

"Used as some kind of outlet for his fury. My dad gets violent; I've seen him. A couple of times he hit my mom, if you want to know the truth. And it always hurt him after. He's not psychopathic; he has the capacity for remorse. But ... but sometimes I wonder if – when there's someone he doesn't care for, someone he's not close to, I always wondered what he'd do with such a person if he was given the opportunity in a high-pressure time like this. And so, Ryuzaki, I'm wondering if he ... used you. For that purpose."

Against his better judgment, L replied, "I suppose you could say that he did."

"Then can you be more specific? I mean, I'm worried about you, Ryuzaki. Even you're not above being hurt by people who know how to do it right."

Something about the way Light said it – was there a right way to do what had been done? A wrong way? Had Souichirou been justified, as the time was truly "high-pressure"? – forced L into a spasm of fear, one that came on so suddenly and violently that he wondered if perhaps he was having a seizure or (could it be?) that Kira had finally found him.

"Ryuzaki!" L felt a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with you? Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Light," L answered automatically. "I can hear you."

"Can I get you something? Water?"

"No, that won't be necessary." His heart had begun to flail inside his chest. He pulled his knees closer to his chin, biting the tip of his thumb, a habit that had not originated because of profound thought but because of childhood insecurities. Somehow the two had always managed to overlap.

"Well," Light said, sounding slightly desperate, "Maybe there's some leftover cake in the kitchen. I think Aizawa had a birthday a couple days ago, didn't he? And we saved –"

It was then, out of nowhere, that L let out a hideous, frog-like retch, clapping a hand to his mouth, striving to maintain some semblance of the dignity that normally came to him without effort. Light forced him to kneel in front of a wastebasket and Ryuzaki threw up with a ferocity he had forgotten could exist inside of his own body.

Gasping, he waited to see if there was anything more. Then he looked up at Light.

Light stared back, eyes glowing with a mixture of rage, alarm, and understanding.

He knew.

L bent over the wastebasket again, heaving, clawing at what was left of Souichirou's hunger that simply seemed to refuse to exit his stomach.


End file.
